I'm not ready to write about the overall finality of this past Easter weekend. I did make a point of going for one last swim in the pool. My mom saw me in my bathing suit marching out back, grabbed a towel, and followed me saying, "I better be there in case your lungs collapse."
I love cookies. Like, love them. Is it strange that I'm eating my leftover Cava for breakfast? I got a new facewash (it has charcoal in it, and that's some kind of a thing) and it smells like men's cologne. Like very good men's cologne. I was at Barnes and Noble last night. I took a stack of 12 books up to a table to peruse, but when I got there I knocked everything over (including the prior tenant's Starbucks). I reassured myself that if this were a movie, my clumsiness would be very charming. I really love cookies. Daaaaang Ingrid Michaelson, yo' new album is all woah. Earlier this week I was sleeping with my fan on. Now I'm back to my electric blanket. I got caught in 4 downpours on Tuesday. It's a good thing "Wet Cat Chic" looks amazing on me.